Not Funny, Universe
by TheBlindReader
Summary: Shaun locked himself in his room, and Rebecca has to figure out why. Just my take on a certain database entry in Syndicate. Oneshot.


_Disclaimer: I do not own Assassin's Creed. If I did, Shaun and Rebecca would have WAY more screen time in Syndicate. And they'd be married._

 _A/N: I do not use curse words, so these two might be a bit OOC in that regard..._

* * *

She arrives back at the safe house a little after midnight. It's nothing much, just a small apartment, but it's furnished, and, as an added bonus, has not one, but two, bedrooms. True, she and Shaun never take the risk of sleeping at the same time. But privacy is a commodity these days.

The supply run took longer than she'd estimated. She expects Shaun to meet her at the door, just _waiting_ to give her the lecture of the century, to gripe about how _famished_ he is, to ask her if she has _any_ 'idear' what sort of repercussions a lack of punctuality can have on their mission.

But he's no where to be seen, which is far more troubling. He _is_ one of the Templars' least favorite people, after all.

She almost panics, but then she notices the door to his room is shut. Odd, but no cause for alarm. Maybe he just got tired, and went to bed early. Unlikely. But there aren't any signs of a struggle in the vicinity, as far as she can tell. Wimpy as Shaun may be, he is not defenseless.

So she sets the bag of food she had been carrying on the desk next to his laptop and begins to divide his dinner from hers.

"Order up, Shaun!" she shouts in what she assumes is his direction.

No answer.

She takes a few moments (and bites of salad) before trying again.

"Yo, you alive in there?"

Silence.

Concern increasing, she walks over to his door and gives the knob a twist, but it's locked. That's a first.

"Hey, seriously, Shaun, is everything alright?" she calls, pounding on the door perhaps a bit harder than she should.

"Bugger off!" he shouts angrily from inside the room, and that shocks her a little, his words stinging in a way she'd forgotten they could. She stares at his door, confused.

 _Fine_ , she decides after a few moments. _But don't come whining to me later about_ _your food getting cold._

She finds a seat facing away from Shaun's room and picks at her kale, pretending not to be even slightly upset about her partner's random mood swing.

She doesn't have time to deal with his crap, anyway. Not with the threat of death looming over their heads. Not with every Templar in Europe hunting them all day, every day. Not when they still have a Shroud to locate.

 _If Shaun needs to be alone for a while, then whatever,_ she thinks as she finishes her meal. _But I have work to do._

So she secures her headphones over her ears, hits play on her favorite tunes, and settles down at the desk, preparing herself for another long night of hacking.

-o0o-

When she glances at the time, she's surprised to see it's only a quarter to 2. It feels like she's been typing away for hours, but that might have something to do with the the fact that she hasn't slept in two days. She is _supposed_ to be resting, with Shaun keeping watch, but he still hasn't come out of his room.

 _This is so stupid,_ she thinks.

She's in no condition to defend them, should they be set upon by Templars. She sighs and rubs her eyes, exhausted.

 _A few cups of coffee should keep me from collapsing until Shaun composes himself,_ she decides.

She stands, removing her headphones, and hears a strange sound. A gaspy, pathetic whimpering.

 _Holy crap... Is he_ crying _in there?_

Maybe she's really asleep, having a nightmare, because the idea of Shaun Hastings crying is so foreign to her, she can't believe her ears. She's not sure how to handle this. Comfort him? Tell him to snap out of it? Slap him? Demand an explanation?

 _Screw coffee,_ she thinks. _I need a real drink_.

She makes a beeline for the shelf where the whiskey is. Except that it isn't, she discovers as she opens the cabinet. Shaun must have taken it.

 _You've got to be kidding me._

She runs her hands down her face, sick to her stomach. Her partner is locked in a room, drinking himself to tears, and she has no idea why.

She backtracks mentally. He was writing database entries when she left earlier.

 _Maybe that's it._

She hurries to his laptop, mind flooding with ideas of what she might find. News of another fallen comrade. A death in his family. Proof that Queen Victoria was a Grand Master.

But when she types in his password and hits enter, all she sees is a picture of a smiling corgi in a handbag, with the name 'Desmond' written above it.

She blinks at the screen, unsure whether to burst into laughter or into tears. This is either a very cruel, very sick joke, or just plain old bad luck, but Shaun's behavior makes perfect sense now. And she knows exactly what she needs to do.

Marching to Shaun's door, from behind which she can still hear weeping, she bends down and picks the lock, because she's an Assassin, dang it, and she's not going to let a freaking locked door get in her way. She hears a click, and swings the door open soundlessly.

Shaun is there, sitting on the floor, his back against the side of his bed, his head in his hands, fingers digging into his scalp, body shaking with uncontrollable sobs. The room reeks of alcohol, and shards of glass litter the carpet, but she rushes to his side anyway.

Kneeling next to him, she wraps her arms around his shoulders and pulls him close. He doesn't return the embrace, but he doesn't push her away, either. He just goes on weeping noisily, resting his forehead on her shoulder as the tears fall.

She tries to shush him, to tell him she knows, and she's sorry, but she just ends up crying softly with him, because they've both lost too much, and their struggle isn't over yet.

But she's tired, so tired of acting like everything's alright, when everyone she's ever cared about ends up dead. So she holds on to one of the last ones left, because he needs her, and she needs to know that he cares, too.

* * *

 _A/N: Thanks for reading!_


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